An Outland Ambush
by child-dragon
Summary: A deviation for me as this is in first person. The archer Breeahd is tasked with making contact with a Scryer spy using some extremely dangerous tactics.


They shot my horse out from under me. The arrow went through its neck and it went down with a scream. I kicked free of the stirrups, hitting the ground on my shoulder and tucking my legs up as tight as I could. The dying animal rolled and I scrambled away from it to avoid getting crushed, my breath coming in sharp, painful gasps as adrenaline flooded through me. I fumbled for an arrow, my fingers numb from the impact. I dropped to my knees, setting the shaft of the crossbow against my breastbone and pulled the string back, staying low to keep the still-flailing horse between me and the ambushers. Two had come out into the open now, one training a bow at me, the other drawing a sword and crossing the distance between us. Their armor was mostly hidden by dull gray cloaks but I could see the tabards of followers of Kael'thas now that they were out in the open. I raised my bow, tracked on the one with the sword, dipped the point a little to the left and fired. The arrow missed.

I didn't know which one was the Scryer contact, after all.

The swordsman was too close to allow me to reload. I abandoned my bow and stood to meet him, drawing my own short sword. There wasn't much of a chance. I was an archer, trained to fight from a distance and from hiding, taking my shots when I could and not wasting any opportunities. The blood elf carried a bastard sword and he held it with an easy confidence I found distressingly familiar. I put my blade at an angle between us and caught his first swing, an overhand, along it. The shock jarred painfully through my shoulder and I staggered backwards, clumsily swinging with one hand. I snapped my wrist at the last second, giving it some extra force with the movement that turned his reverse swing aside and sent it barely past my torso. Way too close. I skittered back, breathing hard - frightened. He did not press the attack. I had only seconds to wonder why when he had me so off-balance and then the opportunity was gone.

The world was suspended with the sudden crushing agony of magic directed against my mind. Sight and sound swirled as my senses went haywire, blinding pain driving me to my knees as it lanced through my head. Thoughts and emotions seemed to build like an incoming tide and I barely felt the elf bat the sword out of my hand, sending it bouncing across the dusty road. The pain subsided somewhat and the world cleared. I found myself curled up on my knees, doubled over at the edge of the road where it dipped down into low ground. My sword and crossbow were out of my reach and the swordsman stood over me. He put the edge against the exposed skin of my neck and I fought to remain still, shuddering from the effects of the mind blast. I could not look away from the blade.

"Move and I slit your throat," he said.

Everything was going exactly as planned.

Four days prior I had been at a Scryer outpost. It was nestled in one of the many broken ravines of Netherstorm where it would be well-hidden from both air and ground. The split earth pooled with wispy tendrils of mana that interfered with any scrying. I had trouble finding it, and considering how long I'd been able to track and that I'd been told where it was; that was saying something. The Scryers that guarded it were also very good. I was challenged by the first sentry about as soon as I realized he was there, nestled along the ravine wall on a ledge. He had his bow trained on me and I answered his question with the proper response. He still did not lower his arrow.

"You?" he asked, his accent thick and his voice filled with disbelief, "You're the hunter they're sending us?"

I could understand his suspicion. I did not look the part of a typical hero of the Alliance. My mail armor was plain and mostly hidden under a dull brown gambeson. I was a short woman with looks that painted me more a human girl that belonged back in Elwynn than someone who had been living on her own in the wilds for many years now. I kept my hair short like a boy and was skinny and lacked most of the defining curves someone my age would have.

"I'm tired and hungry," I replied, "Can I pass or should I just turn around and go?"

"Fine. Go on in."

I passed two more sentries before entering the actual encampment. Pavilion tents were set up in a seemingly haphazard manner but closer inspection showed it was where the close walls of the ravine afforded the most cover. These people were good at what they did. I was directed to the largest of them, set in a recessed section of the cliff face. The inside was lit with a pleasant blue glow from a myriad of crystals floating around the walls. Three blood elves were seated around a table and one of them stood to greet me. I barely reached his shoulder.

"Breeahd?" he asked and I stopped and bowed. "Good, good. Let me look."

The other two elves studied me as well, the man with a slightly suspicious narrowing of his eyes and the woman was unreadable. It didn't help that I couldn't see much aside from the fel green glow. Blood elves continued to be a mystery to me, despite all the work I'd done with the Scryers.

"Perfect," the woman finally declared, "The letter wasn't exaggerating. A far cry better than that troll they sent."

"Pardon?" I asked.

"Your predecessor!" their commander declared, waving me to follow him to the table. I set my crossbow aside and took a seat, minding my sword to not knock anything over.

"Clever enough, but not very good at thinking on his feet," the woman sighed, "Got himself killed and put us in the situation we're in now."

"They said you needed someone who obviously was not a Scryer," I said, "Someone unassuming."

"We have an agent inside the Manaforge." The commander pointed to a map spread out on the table. "He's part of one of their far patrols that covers this area, here. When our troll runner got killed he put everyone on suspicion and we haven't been able to make contact with him for weeks now. We're in dire need of his information as well as getting his new orders to him. I can't get any of my men close as he has a priest that goes on patrol with them. Anyone with pointed ears would get their minds torn apart, so instead, we're going to play on their arrogance and count on them not wanting to waste the energy when... other methods will suffice. The Sin'dorei don't think much of humans."

I was not liking the sound of things. A priest? I had never thought much of them while growing up, not until I got out in the world and discovered that they didn't just heal. That they knew the workings of the mind and could lay a person's very thoughts bare and destroy them in the process.

The woman picked up where he left off. "It's going to be very dangerous," she said, "There's many things that could go wrong. Are you willing to die for us?"

"I would rather not," I said. It was a question I'd asked myself many times since leaving Azeroth. "I won't lie and say the prospect doesn't frighten me. But I'll go anyway. What do you need me to do?"

The three elves exchanged looks. The third, the unhappy looking one that had been silent all this time, finally leaned forwards and met my eyes.

"We need you to walk into an ambush."

There were four of them. Two carried swords and bows, their captain was the one that had me at sword point, and the fourth was the priest. They spoke rapidly among themselves in Thalassian. One of the bowmen wandered off to stand sentry over the road. It was an old path built along the high ground that wandered close to the Manaforge before shooting off towards one of the ethereal's domes. Travelers were not uncommon and were sometimes waylaid by the Manaforge's patrols, especially when they suspected the traveler might be carrying something important.

"Do you have an insignia?" The captain's Common was flawless and overlaid with the Thalassian accent that put stress on the wrong syllables.

"Y-yes."

The sword didn't waver and I didn't dare move. The archer found the chain around my neck and pulled the necklace free with a sharp tug. I felt the sword blade finally pierce skin. A thin trickle of warmth slipped along the lines of my neck to the collarbone. The archer examined my Alliance insignia. The Scryers had given it to me when they explained the plan.

"Alliance courier."

The captain ordered one of them to search the horse. They found the letters. They were false information and contained the Scryer agent's orders, hidden in plain sight in a cypher. Another exchange in Thalassian followed and I tried to keep a tight check on my fear. Which one was the Scryer agent? I saw the priest watching me out of the corner of my eye and suppressed a shudder. What if they did decide any information they could get was worth rifling through my head? I could fight for my secrets but it would be an ugly thing. I did not want to die in such a way. I didn't want to die at all. My hidden knife pressed cold into the small of my back and I tried to calculate how fast I could get it drawn before the captain opened a vein or the priest ripped my mind apart. Then they reached a decision and the choice was no longer mine to make.

I was ordered to my feet and searched. They took my quiver and my belt knife but the archer was sloppy in patting me down and missed the knife. It helped that the blade had been enchanted over and over to evade detection by the Scryers.

"We're taking you back to B'naar," the priest said. He was watching me closely, gaging my reaction. I kept my eyes focused on the horizon and saw a pleased look settle on his face. "Hands behind your back."

It was difficult. Every instinct screamed at me to fight back. It took an act of will to cross my wrists and let the elf tie them. I felt sick. The captain finally put his sword away and quickly looked across the road and at my discarded weapons.

"Leave the rest," he ordered, "We have the letters. The rock flayers will take care of the horse. Dhavnar! Guard the human. We're returning to the Forge."

The sentry broke off his watch and hurried over. The four spread out, the archer taking point with me in the middle and Dhavnar just behind me at my shoulder. With my hands bound my balance was poor and moving cross-country - especially in Netherstorm - was suddenly very difficult. I stumbled every now and then and the elf was quick to grab my arm and keep me from falling. At one point I was forced to one knee when my foot hit a soft spot of dirt and Dhavnar paused, stooping to pull me back up. As he did so, he put his head close to mine and spoke.

"I saw the marking on that insignia," he whispered, "I know who sent you."

The captain grew impatient as it grew closer to sundown. Day was short and dim in Netherstorm as the sun did not shine on this part of the broken world. What light there was came indirectly and was often blocked by the teeming masses of clouds. It grew worse closer to the forges where the mana clouds spiraled for miles in every direction. Night was oppressively dark. The small group seemed to know where they were going and although I could not understand their language I guessed they were trying to reach a campsite they'd used in the past before night settled in on the land. They were getting impatient with my pace and even Dhavnar grew irritated, swearing under his breath even though I'd finally found my balance and didn't stumble now. It was night when the captain was satisfied and called for the group to halt.

I had hoped to use the darkness to escape but luck was not with me. Al tough the sun rarely touched this chunk of land it was still closer to the sky than Azeroth. The stars hung low in the sky and tendrils of color wove through the night, basking the rock and dirt around us in shades of green and purple. Small plants that thrived on the loose mana in the air glistened in the eerie twilight. It was unsettling and magnificent at the same time. The night glittered with otherworldly shine and would not hide me. The Scryers had warned me that I could not rely on Dhavnar to help in any way. The patrols already had suspicion of treachery cast on them and his life was more valuable than mine. Escape rested solely upon me.

There was little talk. These blood elves did not strike me as cruel - just efficient. I was thankful for that. Dhavnar built a campfire and they cast lots to determine watch. I noticed that the priest was exempt. I was set close to the fire in the middle of the campsite. It was nestled in a rock formation and provided shelter from the wind and anything that might be prowling the night. The captain checked the knots around my wrists and redid them, taking up the slack. He also took the precaution of tying my ankles as well.

"The Alliance will notice if I fail to arrive," I said, trying to keep up the deception of a courier.

"And they'll find the bones of your horse picked clean by the rock flayers if they look," he replied, "Besides, unless you're valuable enough to muster an army for, there is nothing Stormwind will be able to do."

Briefly, I wondered how many genuine couriers had gone missing in this way.

The priest brought me some water but otherwise I was ignored. As all but the captain settled in to get some rest I too found myself growing increasingly drowsy. The water had been drugged. They weren't taking chances. My hope of getting out of this alive was dwindling quickly and the last thing I saw before surrendering to sleep was the captain's thoughtful stare.

Dhavnar woke me at some point in the night. My mind was hazy and it took a moment of concentration to bring my surroundings into focus. I ached from being tied for so long. It was still dark and the campfire was low.

"I've got information for the Scryers," he said quietly, "I hope you have a plan to get it to them?"

"Your friend missed a knife," I whispered, "It's within reach."

"Good. Make sure it looks convincing. They're starting to take the Scryers seriously and that means actively rooting out the spies among their ranks. And don't kill the priest. He's stuck on patrol because he's at odds with our superiors and I think I can recruit him to our side. I don't care about the others. You have three days to escape. Any longer and I'll see that you die before falling into their hands at B'naar. It'll be a mercy."

He untied my hands and gave me a satchel, which I hid under my tunic with the knife. We kept watch then, the Scryer taking care to keep an eye on his companions as well, lest one of them wake. I ate a bit of food and some clean water before succumbing to the drugs again. When I woke in the morning my hands were bound once more.

It took a few hours of walking for my head to truly clear. I kept a close eye on my surroundings, using all my ability as a hunter to keep my bearings up. The terrain was growing rockier and I'd be able to hide my trail easily, even if running from active pursuit. There were plenty of places to obscure sight and shake someone, which would be important if I had to leave their spellcaster alive.

Dhavnar was not walking too closely to me. I had line of sight on both the priest and the other archer. The captain was off to my left, far enough away that I would have time to run before he could get within sword range. I palmed the knife at my back and drew it, slipping it up between my hands and bringing it through the rope. There was only a little resistance and then my hands were free. I did not hesitate. I lunged at Dhavnar and he turned towards me with a startled cry. I got one good look at the fear in his eyes. No matter what side we were on, having someone attacking you with a knife is terrifying. I could miss and hit something vital. There was going to be pain. There was plenty to be afraid of.

The elf doubled over with a gasp and I pulled the knife free and stuck him again, this time angling the blade up through the ribcage. He collapsed at my feet, screaming. I knelt for a second, grabbing his quiver and bow.

"Keep the priest busy for me!" I hissed.

"Miserable bitch!" he hissed back.

It was a very fond farewell. I spun and sighted the bow on the other archer and fired before he did. The arrow hit him squarely in the chest and he pitched backwards, falling out of sight behind some rocks. It felt good. I was in control of my fate again. I pivoted and snapped off another shot at the captain. The arrow pinged off his armor. I turned and ran.

The priest snapped off one spell, a sudden lance of power that seared through my mind. I stumbled but this time I fought through the effects and dropped out of sight into a ditch that ran away from the survivors. I saw the captain break off pursuit in favor of seeing to Dhavnar. His injuries were serious enough that it would take the full attention of the priest and it seemed the captain was unwilling to chase me down alone, especially after I picked off the archer so easily. The Scryer's information was still tightly secured around my waist. Perfect.

Surviving with minimal equipment and no supplies in Netherstorm is not an easy task, but I was a hunter. I made it back to the Scryer camp in fairly good shape, if a bit hungry and worn-out. They brought me to the main pavilion and I handed over the spy's satchel. The unpleasant elf started looking through the documents while I gave a full report of all that had happened.

"Well," their commander said when I was done, "That went better than expected. Too bad we can't use this method more than once. We'll have to think of some other means. Good job Breeahd. I'll have someone find you a place to rest and some food. Come find me when you're ready for your next assignment."

He handed me a small pouch of gold. I put it away with a nod of thanks.

"And keep the dagger."

Some gold, some fancy enchants on my knife, and the promise of new work. Not a bad reward for a job well done. 


End file.
